


Crush

by edibleflowers



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:58:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris has a crush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crush

**Author's Note:**

> um, just one of those fluffy fun do-not-read-at-work things. for Alex, on her birthday.

He didn't know how long he'd had the hots for Joey. He'd had crushes on all of them at one time or another; JC, early on, when he'd been all floppy hair and endearing shyness; Lance, when he'd begun transforming himself into buff, bronzed hotness; Justin, sometime recently, with the buzz-cut and muscled arms and disarming smile. But the crush on Joey had been there for as long as Chris had known him. Chris was starting to think, somewhat resignedly, that the damn thing would never go away. Surely after six or seven years of knowing the guy, he'd stop feeling that rush whenever Joey came into the room, or at least be able to control the goofy smile he'd get when he watched Joey dance, all fire and light and joy. But none of it ever stopped.

Eventually, Chris got used to it. He kind of liked it, in a perverse way; it was comfortable, familiar, a constant in his constantly changing life. He'd never allowed himself the futility of actually hoping something might happen between them; Joey enjoyed being with guys, Chris knew, as he'd seen -- very discreetly -- Joey seek out male company on many an occasion. But Joey had always gently rebuffed Lance's advances, allowing their friendship to remain strong and unblemished, so Chris was pretty sure that Joey went by the same philosophy he himself did: keep it out of the group. It worked out well; Chris slept with girls, or with guys who were glad to fuck him and didn't mind if he accidentally called them the wrong name when he came.

* * *

Chris liked his house. Specifically, he liked the freedom of being able to do whatever he liked in it. Most often that entailed walking around naked; after weeks of arguing with surly contractors to make sure his demanding re-decorating plans were carried out correctly, the peace and quiet was a balm to his frazzled nerves, and he could think of no better way to be peaceful than nude.

He'd spent that particular morning on the phone, sorting out Fu stuff, and now he felt like relaxing. He wasn't worried about being discovered; the others had been planning a night of clubbing that he'd turned down, and if anyone came to the door, Kariya's yapping would warn him.

He pulled his shirt off, scratching at his chest, and then kicked off his shorts. The couch in the den was comfortable, so he flopped down on it with a contented sigh and closed his eyes.

As always, the image of Joey -- smiling, crinkly-eyed -- sprang up in his mind. Chris slid a hand down over his chest, sighing happily as it closed on his cock, and sorted through a few ideas before settling on one of his favorite fantasies. In it, they were at Lance's house in Mississippi, and they'd gone horseback riding -- or maybe just out to see the horses in their stalls, to breathe in the rich scents of hay and horse and earth -- and Joey was pushing him, laughing, into the hayloft of the barn. (Chris wasn't entirely positive about these things, but he figured, hey, it was his fantasy.) They were kissing, heated and sweet, as Chris pulled him down into the hay.

"So hot," Chris mumbled to himself, his hand moving slowly on his hardening cock. In his imagination, Joey was pulling their clothes off, his hands feverish and urgent on Chris's skin, and he paused to lap at Chris's stiff nipples before moving lower. Thinking of Joey's beard brushing the taut skin of his erection, Chris moaned aloud.

The blow job was incredible -- of course -- Joey's tongue and lips dancing over the shaft, bringing Chris to the brink of orgasm and then easing him back. Joey pulled off eventually, raising his head to give Chris a glittering look. "Want to fuck you," he said, and in Chris's mind Joey's voice was hot and raspy with lust. "Yes," Chris said to his empty den. He opened his mouth to admit two of his fingers, pretending that they were broader and thicker.

His fist sped faster over his erection, then, as he curved his other hand around and -- slowly, thinking of how Joey would be patient and considerate -- pressed one finger in. The angle was a bit awkward, but he didn't mind; it felt fucking good, a little sharp around the edges, and it was hot to think of Joey's face watching him open up. Chris worked his finger in deeper, groaning a little in pleasure. "That's it," he panted to himself. "Yeah, Joe. Right there."

It was so good, but not nearly enough. He slipped the other finger in; the hotness of the situation, as well as the sheer physical enjoyment, made him gasp and rock his hips up. Even better, yeah, and now he could visualize Joey's hands pushing his thighs apart, could almost feel the heated wide cockhead push its way into his body, "oh, Jesus," he whimpered. Fingers and fist were moving faster and faster now, in tandem with the image of Joey rocking steadily into him -- slipping hard and quick, sweet strong thrusts, each one drawn out perfectly to hit him right where it mattered most -- and the look on his face would be so dark and needy, his skin all flushed with arousal and his breath harsh in Chris's ear--

and that was it, Chris came with a yelp. His hand continued to move as bursts of ejaculate spattered across his abdomen, and when the last shocks of orgasm had been eked out, he let his hands fall free. Closing his eyes, he waited for his head to stop spinning.

"Uh. Chris?"

Chris leapt off the couch with a screech and barked his shins on the coffee table. "Holy fuck!" he shouted. "Fucking shit! What the fuck are you fucking doing here?!"

Joey was red-faced, as much from embarrassment as -- Chris realized -- arousal. Chris grabbed his tee-shirt, used it to wipe off his stomach, and then held it protectively over his groin. It occurred to him that Joey had already gotten himself an eyeful, but Chris didn't want to show off more than was necessary now.

"I'm-- I'm sorry," Joey gulped, as if released from his frozen gape by Chris's actions. "I just -- I was just coming over to see if you wanted to go out, and, uh, you were--" He swallowed, red to the tips of his ears. "It was kinda hot," he said at last.

Chris laughed, then, and dropped his shirt, reaching for his shorts. Joey reflexively looked down, studying his sneakers. "It was hot, huh?" Chris teased as he pulled his shorts on. "You want a piece of the fine Kirkpatrick ass?"

"Well, it'd be mutual," Joey pointed out.

Chris froze, fingers on the button of his fly, and raised his eyes to look at Joey. Still red-faced, Joey had reclaimed a little of his natural confidence at that, and a smile quirked the corners of his mouth. "Isn't it?" he said. "I -- I mean, I heard you say my name--"

"Ah, Jesus, Joe. I'm sorry." Chris sat down on the coffee table, his head in his hands. "You weren't supposed to know. I didn't want to bug you with it."

Joey came around the couch and knelt in front of Chris, tugging his hands down from his face and enfolding them in his big fingers. "It's OK, Chris," he said softly, and his face was upturned, eyes searching, pleading. "I wasn't kidding about it being mutual."

"Oh," Chris said faintly, or thought he said. He couldn't quite remember how to breathe. Then Joey leaned up and kissed him, and he forgot altogether, wrapping his arms around Joey's neck and sucking eagerly on Joey's questing tongue.

He pulled back, breathing hard, to give Joey a worried look. "But. You don't think it'll fuck up the group?"

"We won't let it," Joey said, with a grave assurance, before grinning. "And I don't care. You were so fucking hot, Chris. You _are_ so fucking hot. I want this. You."

"Want you too," and Chris lost himself in the kiss again, laughing when Joey stood and, with a grunt, picked him up. He wrapped his legs around Joey's waist and held on for dear life.


End file.
